It only took Hannah seconds to absorb this. As grand and extravagant as the room was, the man who sat behind the Louis XVI desk dominated. She didn’t feel the evil she’d expected to. With the truly wicked, Hannah knew you often experienced a chill or a dread. What she saw was a slender and attractive man in his fifties, with steel-gray hair flowing back in a mane from a chiseled, aristocratic face. He wore black. It seemed to accent his almost poetically-pale skin. His eyes were black, too, like a raven’s. They studied her now as his full, rather beautiful mouth curved into a smile.

She’d seen pictures of him, of course. She’d studied every scrap of information that had been gathered on him in the last twenty years. And yet . . . And yet she hadn’t been prepared for the shock of sensuality which seemed to emanate from him.

He was a man women had died for. And now she understood it. He was a man who other men had killed for without question. She understood that, too, as she stood ten feet away and felt the power.

“Lady Hannah.” He rose, slowly, gracefully. His body was trim, almost delicate. His hand, as he offered it to her, was narrow and beautiful with a trio of diamonds on long fingers.

She couldn’t hesitate, though she felt if her hand touched his she would be pulled out of what she knew into something foreign and frightening.

Hannah smiled and stepped forward. “Monsieur Deboque.” She was glad to see his slight surprise at her use of his name. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Please sit. Will you have brandy?”

“Yes, thank you.” She chose a soft high-backed chair that faced the desk. There was music playing through hidden speakers. Chopin. She listened to the notes as Deboque crossed to an enameled cabinet and withdrew a decanter. “Your ship is exquisite, monsieur.” There was a painting behind his desk. One of six she knew had been stolen from a private collection only the year before. She herself had helped execute the theft.

“I appreciate beauty.” He offered the brandy, then instead of going behind the desk again, sat beside her. “To your health, mademoiselle.”

“And yours.” She smiled at him again before she sipped.

“Perhaps you will tell me how you became aware of my name.”

“I make it a habit of knowing who I work for, Monsieur Deboque.” She shook her head as he drew out a cigarette case and offered her one. “I must congratulate you on your security and your staff. Discovering who, shall we say, reigned, was hardly an easy matter.”

He drew in the smoke slowly, as a man who appreciated fine tastes. “Most have found it impossible.”

Her eyes were cool and amused on his. “I find little impossible.”